Completed November 12, 1998
Revised November 23, 1998
Posted to Due South Archive February 17, 1999

DISCLAIMER: Benton Fraser and Ray Vecchio belong to Alliance Television and Paul Haggis. They are being used without permission, and without profit. No infringement on the rights of the owners is intended.

WARNING: **NC-17 Slash** This means that this story contains graphic descriptions of m/m sex. If you are underage in your location, or you don't care to read this sort of thing, please do us all a favor and delete now. By reading further, you are acknowledging that **you have been warned.**

NOTES: This story takes place during the pilot episode of Due South.

THANKS to Vicki for invaluable comments on the first version of "Stages." You made it a much better story.

SUMMARY: A small cabin, a cold night, two lonely cops.

"Stages"
A Due South PWP
by Dorothy Marley
demarley@yahoo.com

It was a long ride back to the post. It wouldn't be dark, Fraser assured him, for several more hours, but Ray didn't think that the dark would have made any difference to Fraser. Or to Diefenbaker. Fraser hadn't said anything, but Ray had seen the look on his face as he'd carried the bleeding wolf to the sled, and he'd have bet money--a lot of it--that Fraser would make it if he had to feel his way in the dark. It was the first time Ray had seen a crack in the other man's composure, and it was a little bit of a shock. Even his father's death didn't seem to have hit Fraser as hard as the prospect of losing one deaf wolf.

When they finally reached the town, Fraser bypassed the RCMP post altogether, urging the exhausted team onwards until they reached the tiny animal hospital. Fraser went in with Dief in his arms, and Ray followed more slowly, the jolting ride through the snow--not to mention his earlier acrobatics--having finally taken its toll on his battered body. He took a seat in the waiting room while Fraser spoke briskly to the white-coated doctor, his clear, crisp diction falling soothingly on Ray's ears. He had a nice voice, Ray reflected, the kind of voice that made everything he said sound reasonable, and plausible. 'Yeah,' he mused wryly, 'Even things like "Jump off this sled and ambush this guy, would you? You know, the guy with the machine gun and the snowmobile?" Sure, Fraser, no problem . . .'

"Ray?"

Ray started from his unintended nap to find Fraser kneeling in front of him, studying him with those clear blue eyes. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I'm awake."

"I phoned the post from here," Fraser said. "They're sending some men to retrieve Gerard."

"I thought you'd want to do that yourself," Ray said, surprised.

"I can't leave Diefenbaker," Fraser said, as if that should have been obvious.

"Is he going to be okay?"

For the first time, Fraser hesitated. "They don't know yet. I'm going to stay here until they do." He paused again. "One of the officers can take you back to the cabin, if you want. You need to rest."

"I'm fine," Ray said automatically, adding, "This is a nice chair. I like this chair. I could sit in this chair forever."

That got him a smile, a faint, almost imperceptible one, but a smile. "Thanks, Ray," Fraser said quietly, then rose smoothly to his feet while Ray watched enviously. It wasn't fair. Okay, so maybe Fraser hadn't been nearly disintegrated and subsequently hospitalized, like he had, but he'd think that after being chased over half of Canada by guys with machine guns, Fraser would have the decency to at least act a little humanly tired.

"Where are you going?"

"To get the rest of the team settled in. Dr. Fowler has offered the use of her boarding facilities."

It almost killed him to even think of getting up, but it wasn't his wolf lying there being cut open, and Ray couldn't let Fraser shoulder everything. "You need any help?"

"No," Fraser said quickly. "No, I can manage. I'll be back in a few minutes." He reached up and gripped Ray's shoulder briefly, squeezing him gently through the layers of his clothes. "You get some rest."

Ray watched him go, his shoulder still tingling warmly where Fraser had touched him. Just when he thought it was safe. Damn him.

It was the next morning before they returned to the cabin. Diefenbaker had been pronounced out of danger after a few hours, but by then it had been dark, and Fraser hadn't wanted to leave until the rest of the team had had a chance for a full night's rest. A prohibition, it seemed, that didn't apply to Fraser. He'd left Ray to sleep on the floor of the hospital waiting room, and walked the mile to the post to find out about Gerard, and make his report. When he returned after dawn, he'd awakened Ray and hitched up the team, and before long they were jouncing over the trail that led up to the cabin.

The door was still standing ajar, and Ray went in cautiously, looking around at the cabin's single room. "Well, the place isn't in bad shape," he observed.

"Ray, this room has been machine-gunned, and a hand grenade was detonated in here."

"That's what I mean. For a place that's been blown up, it's not bad."

In fact, the clean-up didn't take long. The cabin was pretty small, and it was fairly easy to divide the contents into what could be salvaged and what had to be thrown away. The biggest task was sealing all the broken windows, but Fraser found a roll of plastic and used it to cover the shattered panes, stuffing wads in the remaining cracks and then hammering the shutters closed. Miraculously, the window over the bed had escaped unscathed, and Fraser left it unshuttered, allowing what feeble sunlight there was to filter in through the dusty glass.

It was early evening before Ray had finished sweeping the bits of wood, glass, and cushion foam into a pile, and scooped them onto the ever-growing trash heap to be burned. Once done, he collapsed on the remains of the couch, ignoring the ominous creaks from the abused piece of furniture, and closed his eyes, enjoying the respite. Fraser, who'd been toiling alongside him all afternoon, had gone out a few minutes earlier on some mysterious errand of his own, dragging behind him a large metal tub that had been propped behind the stove. Ray hadn't asked, and in fact he was glad to be rid of the Mountie's relentless diligence for a little while.

As the quiet settled over the cabin, Ray closed his eyes, listening to the wind blow around the corners, hearing the soft scrape of tree limbs against the thick walls. Quiet, peaceful . . . conducive to thought. And that, he realized just a little too late, was exactly the kind of thing he didn't really need to be doing right now.

This was embarrassing. He was thirty-five years old, for Godsakes. Too old to be having anything as juvenile as a crush. Even if it was on a tall, blue-eyed Mountie with a nice voice. A tall, blue-eyed Mountie who'd saved his life. Who still believed in holding doors for old women, who'd faced a room full of Chicago toughs with guns . . . and probably leapt tall buildings in a single bound. 'Or cliffs,' Ray amended tiredly.

Fraser returned shortly, still carrying the tub, which was now heaped with snow. He set it down in the front of the stove, and started to build up the fire.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ray asked. "There's not enough snow outside, you've got to bring it inside, too?"

Fraser turned to look at him in mild surprise. "You don't want a bath?" he asked.

"A bath? In snow?!"

"Well, you melt the snow first, Ray."

"Yeah, I gathered that. And no, I don't want a bath. I've been wet enough the last two days, thanks very much."

Fraser merely shrugged. "Suit yourself."

While the snow melted, Fraser fixed them a huge supper, and Ray astonished himself by gobbling down a plateful of food that would have choked his brother-in-law.

"I'm going to swell up like a blimp if you keep feeding me like this," he accused, and received a curious look in return.

"A body uses calories quickly in the cold," Fraser informed him. "And fat is an excellent insulator."

"Well, I don't plan to stick around long enough for that to matter," Ray said. "You can pack on as much blubber as you need, but when I get back to Chicago I'm going to have to join a gym."

Fraser didn't say anything for a moment. "Very true," he finally replied, and stood up. He stuck an experimental finger in the tub, testing the now gently steaming water, then sat down on the bed to unlace his boots.

This was something Ray hadn't quite counted on. Okay, so it was logical that Fraser would have to get naked to take a bath, but Ray hadn't fully appreciated what it would mean to be confined here in the same room with him while he did. Well, it was too late now to pretend he had something else to do, and he couldn't very well take a stroll outside in sub-zero temperatures. There was nothing to do but act like nothing unusual was happening, just pretend that there weren't inches of smooth, pale skin being exposed over there by the stove, that that wasn't the sound of buckles being undone, of a zipper going down. And then, finally, the soft splash of water in the tub. Then . . .

"Ray, I forgot my towel. Could you hand it to me?"

For a second, Ray wondered if it was possible to forget how to breathe. Then he swallowed, and stood up, reaching for the towel folded over the back of the chair. "Sure." He resisted a brief, childish urge to hand it to him without looking, to just back up and stick his arm out for Fraser to take it. But that was ridiculous. They were both grown men, mature adults. He could handle this. He turned, the towel in his hands, determined to keep his eyes resolutely up, above the level of the tub. It would have a been a good strategy if Fraser had been sitting down.

"Here's your towel," he said unnecessarily, yanking his eyes up, but not quickly enough, he was sure, to disguise the fact that he'd been unable to keep from staring. God Jesus, but there was no justice. Okay, yeah, so he'd wondered what the other man looked like under his uniform, under all that plain brown and bright red, but that was fantasy. This beautiful pale sculpture of a man was reality, and none of it more real than the dark triangle of hair at his groin, the contrast between it and his white skin almost an invitation to stare. But Ray resisted, snatching only a brief, tantalizing glance of the soft, thick shape nestled there before tearing his eyes away. "You need anything else?" he heard himself say, and hoped to God that Fraser didn't hear the wealth of innuendo that was, he was sure, suddenly embedded in every syllable.

"No, thanks, Ray." Fraser reached for the towel, and Ray was almost relieved to see the bloodied bandage wrapped around his arm, giving him something else to focus on other than the other acres of bare skin.

"When did you get hurt?" he asked. "You didn't say you got hurt."

Fraser glanced at his own arm, as if he didn't remember. "Oh, that. It's nothing, just some scatter from a shotgun."

"You got *shot*? You got shot and you didn't tell me?"

"Well, there wasn't really time, Ray. And it's not serious. Dr. Fowler bandaged it for me."

"The vet? You let the *vet* treat your arm?"

"She's a fine doctor." Fraser bent down to put the towel on the floor, then lowered himself carefully into the bath. "Although . . ." He hesitated.

"Yeah?"

"Well, I hate to ask, but the bandage really ought to be changed, and it's a little awkward--"

"Where's the kit."

As Fraser had said, the wound wasn't serious, but a couple of the pellets had gouged deep, and the whole area was red and scraped. Ray concentrated on putting on more disinfectant, being as gentle as he could while he dabbed out the healing cuts, and then wrapped more bandages around Fraser's arm. The other man's skin was warm and soft against his fingers, sliding smoothly over the hard muscle underneath. Ray tried to focus on that, and keep his mind away from the rest of the man sitting naked beside him. But his work kept his eyes legitimately aimed downward, and as he began to wind the bandages around Fraser's bicep, he couldn't help but notice that the other man was getting hard. 'It's not me,' he told himself firmly. 'The guy's sitting naked, and I'm touching his skin, it's not anything personal. He's probably just as embarrassed as I should be.'

"There you go," he said out loud, and tied off the end of the gauze. "Bathe away."

"Thanks, Ray."

But Ray didn't move, not yet. "You can manage all right? I mean, you don't want to get that wet."

"I'll be fine, Ray."

"I can help," he offered. "I could, maybe, scrub your back for you."

For a second, Fraser just stared at him, an unreadable expression flickering in the depths of those blue eyes. Then he reached into the tub, and fished out the soap. "All right," he said quietly, and handed it over.

'This is hell,' Ray thought, as his hands moved over the perfect, smooth skin. Or maybe heaven. Probably both. He had be careful not to get his own brace wet, but it was worth it, just for the chance to touch him, to lather his palms over the strong, broad back, feeling the muscles relax under his touch, seeing Fraser's eyes slowly drift closed as Ray washed him. He risked another look at his groin, and nearly dropped the soap when he saw the straight, full erection bobbing gently against the other man's thigh. Fraser wasn't even bothering to hide it. Maybe he didn't want to.

"Okay," Ray said at last. "I think your back has been scrubbed."

Fraser straightened, and turned to take the washcloth and soap from him. "Thanks, Ray," he said, and somehow his face was suddenly very close to Ray's, a faint sheen of damp sweat covering his brow. He swallowed. "Ray . . ."

Ray kissed him. It was an impulse, something he'd never have done if he'd stopped to think for even a second. So he didn't think. There was a faint splash, and a muffled noise from the lips against his, then a pair of strong, dripping arms was around him, and Ray was being kissed like he'd never been kissed in his life. Fraser's grip tightened, and Ray was suddenly lifted to his feet, water cascading down around them both as Fraser's mouth found his again. Ray pressed himself closer, heedless of the water, or the cold, or anything other than the heat of Fraser's mouth on him. This was what he wanted, what he needed, and he wasn't going to look back.

They stumbled across the floor together, not able to separate even for the amount of time it would have taken for them to find the bed. Ray landed on top, and a second later felt Fraser's hands tearing at his clothes, in a couple of instances literally, his quick, efficient hands stripping Ray to the skin in a matter of moments.

"Oh, god," Ray breathed against him as he finally lowered his naked body on top of Fraser's, molding his bare skin to Fraser's dampness, loving the erotic slide of their bodies as Fraser's slippery-wet legs wrapped around him, pulling him close. They were both more than frantic now, hands and lips and teeth and tongues moving wherever they could reach, desperately caressing. Fraser's hands slid down his back to his buttocks, two broad palms settling and squeezing until Ray gasped on top of him, his cock leaping up between their bodies. Fraser felt it, and kissed him even harder, his tongue delving in to lick his lips, to force its way inside until Ray was panting for breath. Fraser's arms tightened again, and without warning Ray was suddenly on his back, Fraser's greater weight pressing down on him, one thigh sliding between his legs. For a second, it was almost frightening, then Ray felt the hard slide of Fraser's cock against his, and any fears he might have had melted away in the hot flood of helpless lust.

Ray groaned out loud, lifting his hips to grind them into Fraser's, hearing the other man's breath catch. Then Fraser kissed him once more, hard and desperate, and turned them again, drawing Ray down on top of him, then pushing him away, just enough to allow him to turn over in the narrow bed, spreading himself out on his stomach, his legs parted wide in an invitation Ray didn't need repeated. But when Ray would have risen up, Fraser caught his good wrist, stopping him. He brought Ray's fingers to his mouth, and slowly sucked and licked them until they were thoroughly wet, the sensual glide of his tongue over Ray's fingertips nearly as erotic as the thought of why he was doing it. When he was satisfied, he let Ray's wrist go, and sighed softly as Ray made the first damp exploration between his legs. Ray had his doubts about spit as a lubricant, but only until the first slippery finger sank into Fraser's body. Fraser groaned underneath him, the first sound he'd made all this time, and the naked, hoarse need in his voice was probably the sexiest thing Ray had ever heard. He moaned again as the second finger went in, but when Ray would have added the third he shook his head.

"Now," he said, his voice nearly inaudible, but Ray had to make sure.

"Now?"

"Now!"

Fraser screamed when Ray went in. There wasn't any other word for the strangled, raw noise he made as Ray sank into his body. But when Ray stopped, appalled, Fraser shook his head violently. "No," he panted. "It's all right, it's all right. I'd forgotten . . . it feels good. Please." He nearly groaned the last word, and the sheer need in it sent a jolt of lust through Ray's body. He pushed in again, and this time the cry was softer, a long, liquid moan that melted Ray's bones. "Oh, yes. That's it," Fraser breathed into the pillow, and Ray nearly came on the spot. His hips bucked involuntarily, and Fraser rose to meet him, pushing back even harder. Ray took the hint, and started fucking the other man for all he was worth, unable to hold back any longer, driving deep into him, pounding him into the mattress with every thrust. He lunged in and out of Fraser's body, the sweet friction building in his cock, reveling in the sounds Fraser was making, the shameless, unabandoned cries of pleasure, each one torn out of him as though he'd held them in all his life.

Finally, Fraser's cries crescendoed into a long, hoarse scream, and his body froze, his hips shuddering into the bed as he spent himself in a long, trembling orgasm. His muscles clamped tight around Ray's cock, tight enough that it only took a single extra thrust to come, and he heard Fraser groan again as he climaxed inside him. Fraser shivered beneath him, a long, trembling aftershock rippling through him almost like a second orgasm. God, it must have been a long time. When he had his breath back, Ray made as if to pull out, but Fraser stopped him, reaching out to catch his hand.

"No," he mumbled. "Please. Not until you have to. Please."

"Okay," Ray panted gently. "Sure." So he spread himself over Fraser's back instead, leaning down to kiss softly at the back of his neck, regretting now that he hadn't done it before. Regretting a lot of things that he hadn't done before.

"God," he breathed into Fraser's soft, sweat-damp skin. "I can't believe I just . . . I haven't felt like that since . . ."

"Shh . . ." Fraser's hand groped for his, found it, and raised the palm to his lips. "Shh," he whispered into his skin. "Just hold me," he said quietly. "Please. Just hold me."

Fraser was gone from the bed by the time Ray woke. A quick survey of the cabin showed that Fraser wasn't there, and Ray decided he was probably out feeding the dogs or hunting breakfast, or doing some other early-morning Mountie task. The tub was still standing by the stove, and Ray took the opportunity to take a quick bath of his own, not caring who'd used the water before him. After last night, he supposed it hardly mattered if they shared a little dirty bathwater.

Not long after he'd finished dressing, Fraser returned, his hat and coat dusted with snow. He hesitated a second in the doorway, then carefully pulled it shut behind him. "Good morning, Ray," he said.

"Morning, Fraser."

"How are you?"

"I'm fine. Yourself?"

"Fine."

They stared at each other for a long moment. Fraser was the first to look away. "Ray . . . I think we need to--"

"It's forgotten."

Fraser blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Forgotten. I've forgotten all about it. Total memory loss." Ray waited. "That's what you were asking, right?"

"Well, no, actually, I was going to--"

"Look, we both know what happened. Two guys, stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, risking our lives, it's perfectly natural to . . . well, you know."

Slowly, Fraser nodded. "Yes," he said carefully, "it's very common for people who have shared near-death experiences to seek intimate relations, but I don't--"

"There you have it. We did it, it's over, it's out of our systems now, and we can just forget it and move on."

"Move on," Fraser repeated. "Move on to where, Ray?"

"Well, back to Chicago, for one. I mean, your life is here, right? And mine is there, right? And even if this did happen, which it didn't, it wouldn't do any good for it to happen any more, because it can't happen while we're thousands of miles away from each other. Which is why it can't happen again."

It took Fraser a moment to work that through. "Because we'll be thousands of miles away from each other," he concluded, and Ray nodded.

"Exactly." He stepped up to clap Fraser on the shoulder. "I knew you'd understand."

"So it didn't happen," Fraser said slowly. He licked his lips, visibly working it through in his head. "I just want to be clear. You want to say that we didn't have sex."

"Right."

Fraser shook his head vigorously. "But we did, Ray. We did, and I think that--"

"Fraser, we made a mistake, all right? It happens. But I don't want to lose our friendship over this. Can you understand that?"

For the first time, Ray saw enlightenment in the other man's eyes. "Yes," he said presently. "Yes, I understand." He looked down. "Your friendship is very important to me, Ray. And you're right, I wouldn't want to lose it."

"Good. Then it's settled."

He waited, and after a moment, Fraser nodded, still staring at the floor. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I suppose it is. Well." He looked up, and smiled faintly. "Well," he said again. "I guess I need to get breakfast." He moved past Ray to the food shelf, and ran his hands over the stacked supplies. "Ray . . ." he said after a moment.

"Yeah, Fraser?"

Fraser turned to look at him, a strange expression in his clear blue gaze. "Thank you."

"For what?"

Fraser opened his mouth, then closed it, smiled, and turned away again.

"Nothing."

THE END

Continued in "Stages II: A Thousand Miles."

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